A Monster ate my Jacket
by Obi the Kid
Summary: Whatever became of Dean's leather jacket? (I know it was lost earlier in the series, but for my purposes, this takes place during second half of Season 7)


**TITLE**: A Monster Ate My Jacket

**AUTHOR:** Obi the Kid

**RATING: **PG

**SUMMARY:** Whatever became of Dean's leather jacket? (I know it was lost earlier in the series, but for my purposes, this takes place during second half of Season 7)

**DISCLAIMER:** The characters of Sam and Dean Winchester and the world of _Supernatural_ do not belong to me, nor do I make any profit from this story. Any typos/errors are all mine!

_Note: I think most of us know the real story as to why the leather jacket disappeared from Jensen's character wardrobe. Stolen at some point by who knows who? But I thought I'd have fun with my take on how it disappeared from __**Dean's**__ wardrobe._

* * *

"What the hell, Sam? Why?"

"It was about to eat you, Dean. What was I supposed to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. Shoot it, maybe?"

"You were in the way."

"Distract it?"

"I did distract it. I threw your jacket over its head."

"Then you ran like a little girl and it ATE MY FRIGGIN' JACKET!"

"It only ate half of it, well, okay more than half, here." Sam held out his hand and placed a single brown leather sleeve on Dean's shoulder, draping it there. "You can keep it as a memento."

Dean was trying very hard not to punch his little brother in the face again. It'd become a habit over the past few years and he'd gotten good at it. This time though, he decided against it - for now.

"Sam, that was Dad's jacket. That one we've had in our family for, oh I don't know, forever maybe? How could you let the damn thing eat it?"

The brown sleeve slid off Dean's shoulder onto the ugly hotel carpet and Sam quickly picked it up, folded it and shoved it into Dean's blue duffel bag. "I didn't _let_ it eat anything. It just did. Don't you think the bigger issue here is the actual _monster_? Forget the fact that it eats leather, what it really wanted to eat was us. That's a problem. We already have the Leviathans after us. This thing wasn't one of those, I don't think, but it's a problem."

"Yeah and now you just royally ticked it off." A half empty whiskey bottle pulled Dean to the kitchen area. It wouldn't be half empty for long. He pointed at Sam with his right hand that was also curled around his glass. "And don't say a damn word about me drinking. You let a monster eat my jacket, I've earned my whiskey."

Sam sat across from his brother at the tiny kitchenette table. "Whatever, Dean. The point is what do we do about this?"

"Stay the hell away from it for starters, especially when there are jackets in the vicinity!" He paused for a minute, looking somberly at the amber liquid in his glass. When he spoke again, his voice had completely changed from upset and angry to solemn and reflective. "Seriously, Sam. We don't have many things left that belonged to Dad. His journal. The car. It's just…we're losing our past. Everything we ever had, it's disappearing in one way or another. The jacket…it was Dad. If we can't hold onto the small things, what've we got left?"

There wasn't really a response Sam had ready for that, so he asked something less obvious. "What'dya think Dad would say about the monster eating his jacket?"

"Well, you'd be grounded for a week and I'd be on the hook for a month. After all, I shoulda known better than to leave something personal of mine lyin' around like that for my little brother to use as a weapon, right?" Dean plopped his glass onto the table and finished with, "Even…if he did save my life in the process." The small smile that crossed Dean's face at that moment was all Sam needed to cement the moment between them. It was the only way this current version of Dean could bring himself to say thank you. Knowing his brother the way he did, Sam accepted it without rebuke.

"So then, Dean, about our real problem…"

"Yes, the jacket-eating monster. I got nothin' Sam. These monsters get nuttier every year. I couldn't write this stuff that comes our way. I guess for a start we should leave town. Get the hell outta Dodge."

Sam got up. "Got a place in mind?"

"Someplace warm and monster free."

"Yeah," the younger brother offered a humorous snort, "Wouldn't that be nice." He tossed Dean's duffel at him from across the room. "Pack up then. Oh and I'm driving."

"Better think again, Sasquatch." Dean tripped over the chair leg as he got up and stumbled several feet forward landing near his brother. These days it took a lot to actually make him drunk, but he appeared to have found the limit for the day.

Sam looked down and jingled the keys over his head. "I'll wait for you in the car, Dean."

Dean took his unfamiliar spot in the passenger side of the Impala. He'd retrieved the leather jacket sleeve from the duffel before tossing the bag in the trunk. The sleeve he held softly in his hands. "What'll we do with it?"

"Dunno."

"I mean, I gotta do something with it. I can't just toss it out."

"Frame it."

"What?"

"Frame it."

"And hang it on what wall?"

"Just a suggestion."

"Do me a favor, Sam. Drive. Okay? And focus on the road. I don't need you doing anything else stupid like feeding my car to a monster."

"The monster's probably full right now. That was a lot of jacket to eat and leather is kinda chewy."

Without warning the Dean flicked the brown sleeve up and snapped it in Sam's direction, slapping him in the face. The sleeve then proceeded to whack Sam on the head several times before it finally rested and was shoved into the glove box.

"There. I feel better now."

Sam rubbed at his cheek and huffed out a muffled laugh. "Yeah, me too. Hey, call Bobby. See if he has anything on jacket-eating monsters."

"Sure. Like he's gonna believe this one."

"We've had stranger, Dean."

"When?"

"Well, not…recently, but…okay, maybe not."

"Didn't think so. Just drive. I'm sure Bobby will live through the night if we don't tell him our insanely moronic story about the monster that ate my leather jacket. I'm calling in a nap. If any more monsters come our way, feed them that overused blue corduroy coat of yours. That might make him nostalgic for the 1970's and could confuse him just long enough for you to drive away from him without being eaten. I'm done. Wake me when we to wherever the hell we're going." Dean leaned his head onto the passenger side window. "Oh and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Do we _really_ live in a world where jacket-eating monsters actually exist?"

Sam snorted a reply, "Yeah, Dean. We do."

"Awesome. Just…friggin' awesome."

* * *

The End


End file.
